﻿Chapter Eight

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1958 “I'm sorry. Jimmy, but I forget – do you take sugar with your coffee?” Jimmy squirms a bit in the guest chair of the living room, glancing up at Wendy and then quickly looking away. The three of them – Jimmy, Wendy and Desmond – are gathered together before the front window of the living room, the front window that has it;s curtains thrown open fully for a change, letting in the light from the mid afternoon. Jimmy looks out the window into the empty street before him. Small tremors of anxiety flit across his face, like bits of breeze against the surface of a puddle. He turns back to Wendy with a squinting smile. “Just black will be fine, Wendy...” “Right.” Wendy strolls back into the kitchen, her heels clacking against the hardwood floors as she goes. While passing through the doorway, Wendy sneaks a glance back at Jimmy. And yes, he's staring at Desmond again, just as he's been doing ever since he arrived, whenever he thinks that she's not looking. For his part, Desmond does not respond in any noticeable fashion, not that this does anything to lessen Jimmy's resolve. In fact, as she makes her way to the kitchen counter and tray with the cups of coffee, she can see Jimmy in the reflection of the kitchen window, now. He is leaning forward in his chair, leaning towards Desmond, his look intent. Hey Desmond, buddy... You in there? Hello? Earth to Desmond. “So Jimmy,” She says, picking up the tray from the counter and walking back towards the living room, “I understand that we've finalized all of the necessary documentation for Desmond's royalties...” She reaches the coffee table and sets the tray down, lifting Jimmy's cup and handing it to him. Jimmy snaps his eyes away from Desmond and he stares at the offered cup for a moment, before smiling cheerfully and accepting the coffee. “Uh, yeah, that's right. Everything's taken care of, we're all set there.” Jimmy takes a quick and awkward sip of the coffee and goes back to watching Desmond, no longer bothering to hide his behavior from Wendy, now. Wendy takes a cup for herself and sits down in her own chair, watching Jimmy watching her husband. She really can't decide what she finds most vulgar about this man: the naked gaping fascination that he shows towards Desmond, or the fact that he had even bothered to try to conceal it at all, as though his reaction to the situation was somehow dirty. But then Wendy thinks of the hospital, in the days following Desmond's accident. She doesn't recall much from that time too clearly, but she can remember one thing - that Jimmy had been there, almost from the very start. And he had stayed for much longer than he'd had to. It's his one saving grace, she supposes. He is loyal, and that's definitely a rare thing to come by in this world. She knows that well enough, these days. Wendy sips her own cup, slowly, while continuing to regard Jimmy. He has the air of someone who is waiting for something, like perhaps he thinks that maybe Desmond has something for him. Like a message... “So tell me, Jimmy.” Wendy says, holding her cup just beneath her chin, “How long have you known Desmond for?” And now Jimmy turns his head slowly and deliberately to look directly at Wendy. It would seem unnerving to her, if she hadn't already had plenty enough to unnerve her as of late. But she could sense that they were beginning to close in on the heart of their conversation – the unspoken reason for Jimmy's visit.